The Queening Square
by IrisesNoir
Summary: Alice may have returned to her world and settled into her life, but the Oraculum hasn't quite finished with her just yet and destiny has other plans...
1. Chapter 1 The Opening

_You could stay…_

Alice flopped onto her back, catching herself before she rolled clean off the small cot and onto her cabin's hard wooden floor. From her first night on her first journey to Hong Kong, she'd found the gentle rocking of the ship soothing and peaceful – perfect for sleep – until tonight.

She let out a long, overly-loud sigh into the darkness and rolled to her side. Her life had changed, no doubt of that. Her relationship with Lord Ascot had evolved from amused interest in her as an apprentice on his part to a full partnership in just under a year. Alice's imaginative visions paired with a seemingly innate business sensibility had caused a business explosion and subsequently taken her all over the world. China had just been the start of it; Alice had been to all corners of the earth, seen things that rivaled fantastical illustrations from her picture books as a child, her own vast imagination, even…

…_even the Underland._

She had seen great palaces of gold that towered as high as the White Queen's palace and exotic tribal dances where the dancers' limbs seemed to spin around independent of their own bodies. She had seen trees that towered so high over her she felt as if she had drunk the potion again, and insects of such colors that Absolem would have looked positively drab in their company.

And then there was the tea.

She had drunk tea on every continent and in seemingly every flavor and color– earthy tasting green teas, spicy amber teas, light flowery white teas and sweet red teas. She had drunk teas as medicine, as ritual, and simply as a beverage. She had drunk tea out of china so delicate it was almost see-through and out of crudely carved wooden cups. She had drunk it with milk, with sugar, with honey, with jam, mint, butter, whisky, salt and all by itself.

_HE_ would have been positively giddy.

_You won't remember me…_

Every cup of tea, every hat, every pair of green eyes, every windmill, some days it seemed everything, _everything _reminded her of him. She sighed again and turned onto her back once more. One set of wonders to replace another, perhaps, but in the last four years of travel, of adventure in this world that she had never thought possible, she had yet to find his equal. And now…

And now.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, tossing off the bedclothes, exasperated. She climbed out of the tiny bed, slipped into a long warm coat and a pair of shoes, opened the door of her small cabin and made her way up to the deck.

Only a few hands were on watch at this hour of the night. Aside from the sound of the sea and wind and low murmuring of the scant crew, it was a peaceful night – clear, too. The stars and moon shone brightly, illuminating the ship and sky. Alice stared up at them, leaning against the rail. She stayed there, lost in her thoughts and memories until dawn.

Shortly before noon, Alice stepped off the gangplank. For the first time in over three years, her feet were again on English soil.

* * *

Hatter sat in his customary spot at his table, slumped down, a smallish teacup dangling precariously by it's handle off his left forefinger. _Tea_ he thought. _Tea, treacle, time…_

He'd gone through every letter of the alphabet seven hundred and fifty-two times since she left. "Things to do," she'd said.

_Things_. _There's another._

Every letter, that is, but A. But there was only one A word that really mattered, that really _deserved_ a good investigation, a good think.

_Think._

Further down the table, the March Hare juggled a lemon scone, a teaspoon, three lumps of sugar and two mismatched saucers while Mallymkun stood on the lid of a teapot and applauded.

"Bravo Thackery! Bravo! With all of this practice you'll soon be able to juggle blueberry scones instead of lemon!"

The hare let the items fall, leapt up on the table and took a grand bow. "The blueberries _do _throw off the balance of color. Very important for juggling, color is. Blueberries always make things difficult."

"You will get there, I'm sure," Mallymkun patted his foot with reassurance.

The March Hare stole a glance at the tall man at the head of the table, ears drooping at the obvious lack of interest. Mallymkun trotted across the table to Hatter, pulled out her sword and stabbed his knee.

"Ow! Yeh wee boggin bampot!" he jolted up, sending the teacup to it's shattered death upon the ground. His eyes flashed orange for a moment, then back to their customary vivid green.

"Oh, Mallymkun, I do apologize," he said, softly, rubbing the spot on his knee her rapier had pierced him absentmindedly. "I'm fine. I let my thoughts get away from me, and I was chasing them."

"Were they caught?"

"Alas, they got away. Again." He sighed deeply, then abruptly flung two broken teacups at the March Hare, followed by a small layer cake. "Come, Master Earwicket! Let us have us a show! A proper entertainment for a proper party on this lovely day in May!"

The Hare caught the teacups, readying himself to catch the cake and resume his juggling, but the cake stopped mid-flight. Fluffy pink frosting disappeared from the cake's top while it floated a few feet above the table. A blue gray whirl of smoke appeared, followed by a long pink tongue lapping at the sides of the cake.

"Chessur! So glad of you to grace us with your smoky self!" the Hatter grinned, now pulled free of his muddled _her_ thoughts.

A head appeared around the teeth, and a body beneath the head. The blue-gray cat hovered there, still licking the candy-colored frosting off the cake with his long tongue. He paused to nod and grin a greeting to the mad creatures and the hatter.

"A riddle for the day, my friend?" the cat purred, licking the remainder of the pink confection from the edges of his mouth.

"Is it a broken wasp wing?" shouted the March Hare, yanking on his ears and hopping from foot to foot among the remainders of the table settings. "A purple-striped sock? A buttered slice of bread that has lost its way?"

Mallymkun laughed hysterically. "He hasn't _asked_ it yet, you twit!"

"Oh but it's a slice of bread! I do know it is!" cried out the March Hare gleefully hopping back to his seat.

"Well Chessur? Is it?" asked the Hatter, leaning forward, now interested. The solutions presented were compelling to be sure, but when it came to Chessur's riddles, Hatter preferred to hear the answers from the cat as often the answer made sense.

Well, as much sense as they could in his mad mind.

Besides, even in his thoughts of darkest dark, of the most missing of missings of _her_, he must admit, he always enjoyed a riddle.

The cat rolled onto his back and looked upsideways at the Hatter, ignoring his boisterous companions.

"What can run but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps, has a bed but never sleeps?" he said in a lazy sing-song voice.

The mad party-goers grew silent, lost in thought.

"Probably not bread…" the March Hare said, a bit forlorn.

Chessur disappeared only to reappear body-less inches from Hatter's face.

"Give up?"

Hatter nodded, gravely. Though he knew so very many riddles, he never could seem to hold onto their answers.

"Why, a river, of course. Any river, I suppose, but in this case, that one." The cat drifted over to the edge of the forest where the bend of a river disappeared into the trees. At the forest's edge, his head turned and looked back at the three tea-takers. "Well?" Chessur asked, "are you coming?"

* * *

The mad companions stood on the crest of a hill, just on the opposite edge of the forest. They overlooked a rolling landscape, dotted with trees and rocks and small brooks, all rather ordinary for the Underland, really. Except, of course, for the land, the grass, the pattern that was emerging. Hatter's bright green eyes widened. Yes, the pattern was expanding, seemingly onward and outward, slowly yes, but perceptible in it's growth, in the darkening and lightening of the squares, the spaces, dark, light, dark, light, a never ending on-stretching checkered pattern…

_Just like a chessboard._

Hatter's mad mind raced, his heart beat faster. _I know this…I saw this in the Oraculum…_

"So it has started then…"

"So it has," purred Chessur.

"TEA AND GAMES! GAMES AND TEA!" the March Hare cried out maniacally, then looked around, a bit abashed, and tugged hard on his ears.

_She's coming back. _


	2. Chapter 2 The Pawn Arrives

If she had to endure one more nagging comment about her refusal to wear a corset, or pin up her hair, or wear stockings or redden her lips…or how improper it was to join male dinner guests in the study after dinner to engage in talk of business while they smoked their pipes and cigars and drank their brandy, she would truly go mad.

She had endured weeks at sea, foreign fevers and travels to other worlds where a mild dose of insanity was practically a given, and in the end it would be her own mother's badgering to send her completely 'round the bend.

Her mother loved her; Alice knew that. But understand her? Accept her?

Impossible.

_Sometimes I imagine six impossible things before breakfast…_

Not for the first time, Alice wondered how on earth her practical, perfect lady-of-society, unimaginative mother ever ended up with a man like her father. What had they talked about? What did they do together? Did she constantly pester her husband to be more ordinary? Not say odd things? Wear proper undergarments? Alice hadn't been home a month and she was already aching to be elsewhere. Anywhere would do. Anywhere in the world…

_Or another world…_

It had taken her a three weeks to come up with the plan to get away. In hindsight, it had been obvious, really. She arranged an evening business meeting with Lord Ascot, followed by a game of chess. They had taken up the pastime on their travels together, and after some practice, Alice had become a formidable opponent. She had found a certain contentment in the figures, reminiscent of the white army on her last day in the Underland. She had purposely drawn out the evening's game, and by it's end, it was far too late for her to make the journey home. Lord Ascot insisted she stay overnight and return home in the morning.

At first it had just been a ruse to get away from her mother for a time.

But why waste the perfect opportunity?

Again, it had been obvious, really. Hadn't it been what she'd been planning since that last sleepless night on the ship? No, she had made her decision, her plans to return, and even declared them the moment after she drank the jabberwocky blood, a promise to the man who had been looking at her with wide green eyes that had traded their customary edge of lunacy for a resolved sadness.

_I'll be back again before you know it._

Her blue dress – _why break with tradition_, she had thought while dressing that morning – was beginning to get muddy on the bottom. It was too early for the sun to have dried the grass and dirt paths from the morning dew. She didn't care – the tree was just up the hill.

_And beneath that tree…_

Gathering up her skirts, she broke into a run.

* * *

"Do…do you think she'll remember this time?"

Queen Mirana smiled at her Hatter. "Oh, yes, Tarrant. I am positively without doubt. She will remember you."

Hatter stared into his tea, shoulders slumped, still unconvinced.

Unconvinced and impatient. It had been several weeks now since Chessur had alerted them of the emerging ChessBoard. At least he was reasonably sure it had been several weeks. Time had never passed quite the same since their little dispute over waiting for The Alice to return.

Time could be so _touchy_.

The White Queen had agreed to take tea with him each day.

Hatter, in turn, had agreed to only question her about new Alice news at tea.

"Do you think we ought to send McTwisp after her?" he asked, suddenly perking up. "She always comes back right away when we send him."

The White Queen passively wondered if her usually infinite well of patience and understanding would last if Alice did not come soon. "Tarrant, she will come! It is in her destiny. All the Oraculum says will come to pass. You know this. This is why she had to leave. She was not who she needed to be yet," she chided gently. "She will come when she is supposed to be here, and do what she is meant to do. She is still The Alice, and she will remain so until she does what she is meant to and gains her new name – her rightful name." Mirana delicately dropped a sugar cube into her cup and stirred with an overly graceful touch.

Hatter slouched back in his chair.

"What if she can't make it through the first task?"

"Do you have so little faith in her?"

Hatter bit his lip. He had heaps of faith higher than the highest floating mountains in Underland in Alice. Her succeeding wasn't what was worrying him so at all.

He took a deep breath.

"And when she gets her new name? Will she still…will she want to…that is to say…"

Tarrant's brow furrowed and his eyes filled with worry as he looked at his queen.

"Still take tea?" he blurted out finally. "With me, I mean. Will she still have tea with me," he finished, pathetically.

Mirana smiled to herself, and decided that, for now, discretion with her Hatter was indeed the greater part of valor on this matter.

"Tarrant, do I still take tea with you?"

"Well, yes, quite evidently as we are sitting here, but – "

She raised her delicate hand to quiet him. "Then I highly doubt that Alice, who…_cares_…for you so deeply, and whom you have shared so much with, would stop…_taking tea…_ with you simply because her name has changed. Now, if you please, pass the teacakes. I had Mallymkun keep Thackery out of the kitchen this morning so as to ensure there would be no bits of broken china in them today."

* * *

Alice stood at the tree, looking into the opening at its roots. She lifted her gaze to the Ascot estate for a moment. "It's not as though I'm leaving forever," she murmured to herself. "I'll likely be back before they even know I'm gone." She smiled, closed her eyes, and jumped into the hole.

The free-fall down the rabbit hole was the same as she remembered: terrifyingly fast and filled with all manner of odd things as though someone had emptied the entire contents of an attic from a house in which the same family had lived for generations…albeit a rather macabre family. After some time, she landed with a _thud_. She picked herself up, and looked to the small table.

A rather large iron key sat on it, but no potion.

Alice felt panic rise in her. It had never occurred to her that she would not have the necessary tools to pass through the little door; they had always been provided for her. She looked around the room.

No small doors hidden by curtains.

No small doors _not_ hidden by curtains.

No curtains at all, actually.

Just two large, dark wooden doors with ornate golden scrollwork stood before her, side by side. They were identical, down to the brass doorknobs above they keyholes.

Alice picked up the key and found a small piece of paper wrapped around its shank. She opened the scroll and read.

_A simple test does prove you wise,_

_These doors do speak of truth and lies,_

_Neither both, but each of each._

_And of one door you may beseech,_

_A single query to draw your plan,_

_Only truth will take you Underland._

"A riddle, or perhaps logic puzzle," Alice said softly. "Well, certainly no time wasted there."

She remembered her father giving her logic puzzles such as this – longer than one or two lines. She would get frustrated at their length, declaring them too overwhelming to solve. He would patiently sit with her, helping her break them down into more manageable parts.

"All right, line by line, then."

_A simple test does prove you wise._

Well that was obvious. The riddle was meant to prove she was worthy…worthy of what, though?

_These doors do speak of truth and lies._

Speaking doors? This was Underland, or at least some sort of gateway to Underland. Alice took a tentative step toward the twin entryways.

"Hello?"

No response.

Then the scrollwork on both doors began to shift and change fluid-like within the wood, forming…words: Hello, Alice.

Well, that counted as speaking, she supposed.

_Of truth and lies._

So it would seem the doors would spell out both truth and lies.

_Neither both, but each of each._

Not both…each of each…so, one of truth and one of lies. Yes, that made sense. Perhaps she should ask the doors if this was what it meant. The words were posed on her lips when she remembered the next lines.

_And of one door you may beseech._

She could pose a question, yes.

_A single query to draw your plan._

Single…the request for a confirmation died on her lips. All right then, this would have to go on faith.

_Only truth will take you Underland._

So one door would lead her to Underland – the Truthful Door. The Lying Door would lead her, where? Home? The Outerlands? The moon?

Did it matter?

So she could ask one door one question. One door told the truth, the other door lied. The Truthful Door would take her to Underland.

Well, at least she was reasonably sure she had figured out the puzzle. Now to decide on her one question.

She couldn't just ask a door if it led to Underland – the answer for both would be yes. If she asked if the door lead to, well, _not_ to Underland, the answer would be no. Not so simple then.

However…if she asked…

She picked up the key off the table, and walked up to the door on the left.

"Door…er…Left Door. My question is, do _both_ doors lead to Underland?"

A pause, then the scrollwork shifted like light reflected on moving water: "Yes."

She grinned.

"Thank you," she said, moved to the door on the right, and fit the key into the lock. It opened easily. She stepped not into the customary garden of talking tiger lilies and roses, but into an arboretum of slightly melancholic cherry blossom trees.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for your reviews and favorites! This is my first venture into writing any sort of serious fanfiction, and had no idea if I could actually write anything someone would want to read, but Alice and Hatter would just _not _leave me alone and this is what became of it. Obviously this based on the movie, but I've also drawn on details and themes from the original books. The novelization of the movie has been absolutely invaluable in writing this and getting the dialogue right (and feeding my current Alice obsession).

And yes, the door riddle WAS inspired by the one from Labyrinth, but I chose a different solution. The original Knights and Knaves logic puzzle was created by logician Raymond Smullyan.

And finally, a request: Chess played a huge role in Through the Looking Glass, and it's going to be a major theme in The Queening Square. I know next to nothing about chess. I'm pretty good at researching, but if anyone finds any errors please do not hesitate to point them out to me.


	3. Chapter 3 A Queen's Deflection

As Alice began to make her way to the castle – it rose over the tops of the cherry trees like a beacon – she heard him before she saw him. The big brown bloodhound stopped just in front of her, panting and tail-wagging happily.

"Bayard!" she cried happily, dropping to her knees to embrace the dog.

He raced up to her and gave her face a great lick. "Alice," he greeted her in his soft deep voice. "Welcome!"

"Oh Bayard, it is _good_ to see you! How did you know I was here?"

"I could smell you, of course. The Queen has had me on scent-watch for you for some time now. We've been awaiting your arrival."

"Waiting?" Alice asked, perplexed. "You knew I was coming?"

"Yes, since the Great ChessBoard appeared. Come, the Queen awaits."

He turned and started back to the castle at such a pace that Alice had to trot to keep up. _Chessboard? _she wondered to herself, but put it from her mind upon seeing the distant figure of the ever-resplendent Queen descending the palace steps to meet them. Another figure was right on her heels.

The figure, Alice noticed happily, was sporting his telltale top hat.

* * *

Mirana rushed through the halls and down the steps of her great castle as quickly as her innate calmness and grace would allow followed by a half-as-graceful but doubly-elated Hatter. The four met at the bottom of the stairs and Bayard bowed.

"Your Majesty."

Alice followed suit and curtsied, "Your Majesty."

"Rise, my champion, my faithful envoy." She floated down the steps, and leaned down to pat Bayard behind the ears. "You have done well." She turned to Alice and embraced her.

"Alice, welcome! Your journey has not overly tired you, I hope?"

"No, your majesty. Well, there was this business with a riddle and doors, has the-"

"Yes, yes," the White Queen interrupted, "It had to be, I fear. Now, there is to be a great return feast in honor of your return, and I'm sure you would like to rest before it begins." Mirana smiled with her usual effervescence.

"I, well, all right…but a return feast? How did you know-"

"I promise all of your questions, well, many of them at least, will be answered in time, my champion. Now, if you will excuse me, I am needed to oversee the preparation in the Western Courtyard. Bayard, would you be so kind as to accompany me?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Bayard turned to Alice. "I will see you at the feast, Alice."

"We are all so very happy you have returned Alice. Tarrant, please show Alice to her rooms." Mirana smiled with a hint of self-satisfaction at the Hatter and floated off in what Alice assumed was the direction of the Western Courtyard with Bayard at her heels, leaving her and Hatter alone.

Hatter had been watching the exchange between the Queen and Alice and the bloodhound. Well, to be perfectly honest with himself, he had been watching Alice. He hadn't realized it had been possible that she could become even _muchier_ than she had been on Frabjous Day, but, oh, she had. She was standing there before him, proof in the purest form.

She hadn't been a child _exactly_ when she had last come to Underland, not really, but the child-Alice only a few steps behind. Now, there was no doubt of her not-childness. Her lack of child-ocity was apparent everywhere – oh yes, he had noticed – but it was most apparent in her _eyes._ They were still wide and full of wonder, but the innocence and naivete had been replaced by a certain wisdom and confident understanding that had only just started to manifest after she had slain the Jabberwocky and was now radiating from their hazel depths. And they were smiling.

Her eyes were smiling at _him._

In fact, her entire face was smiling at him: lips and cheeks and teeth along with those magnificent eyes.

This would be The Smile as it belonged to The Alice, and should and _would_ be the smile to which he'd forever measure any and all other smiles.

Then The Smile faltered a bit - perhaps he should stop just staring and smile back. He did. The Smile returned.

Alice closed the space between them and threw her arms around the Hatter.

Hatter held Alice to him, noting everything: the feel of her silken hair against his cheek, her light perfume giving hints of rose and jasmine, her slender and soft and _oh-so-strong_ form pressed against him.

Definitely, _definitely_ not a child anymore.

"For a moment, I thought it was _you_ that didn't remember _me_," she said with obvious relief, her words soft and close to his ear. His heart caught and his eyes darkened to a forest green. Not remember her? _Not remember her? _

"Oh, Alice." His lips brushed softly against her hair as he spoke. "I'd know you anywhere."

* * *

He looked magnificent.

The unkempt tattered Hatter of her last visit had been replaced by this man who looked perfectly the part of the Hatter in the White Queen's court. He wore a fine coat of dark velvet and the scorched, worn hat had been swapped for a recreation or had been flawlessly mended. His hair had grown out a bit and longer curls had replaced the frizzy wildness and his face seemed…

_Healthier_, Alice thought. The dark circles around his eyes had faded, at the very least.

Come to think of it, Bayard's coat had seemed rather shiny compared to her last visit. And the White Queen had seemed even more radiant than usual. A thought occurred to her.

"Has Underland changed from when I left? The land and it's inhabitants?" she asked him. He was leading the way down a long corridor.

"Oh yes," he said happily. "The Underland was so very dejected and depressed under the rule of the Bloody Red Queen. It, and we, have perked up immensely since her banishment. Things have looked particularly perky lately though. Well, I suppose it is perfectly natural. After all, Underland is entering a new era."

"A new era?" asked Alice, "What do you mean?"

Hatter looked away, as though suddenly very taken the floor tiles. "Ah, well, that's…you see the Orac…oh! Here we are. Isn't this a lovely door? It's yours, you know. Though I can't imagine anyone wanting you to have any other door but the loveliest one."

He was about to open the door for her when Alice placed her hand on top of his. "Tarrant, why is everyone avoiding my questions? Bayard, the Queen, and now you? And the entryway to Underland has changed – now there's a riddle instead of the potion and cake. What is going on? Has the Red Queen and Stayne returned?"

Hatter forced himself to look at her.

"No, she and Stayne are still living in banishment in the Outerlands."

"Well what is it? Is there another Jabberwocky?"

"No, as much as we can tell the that was the only one of it's kind."

Well, that much was a relief. She had no desire to meet up with any of those three ever again. Still though, there was something that no one was telling her.

"Then what is going _on?_"

He shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably and looked down again.

"I don't…" he began, and sighed. "There is an awful lot to tell, Alice," he said in a soft voice. "And I don't think I'm the one to tell it. The Queen is really the one you ought to be talking to about this – the one to ask your questions of. But, there is a feast in your honor tonight," his long face brightened. "Everyone's been planning, you know. We've all played our parts." He grinned suddenly and swung open the door. "Tonight is time for feasting, Alice. Let your questions rest and relax until tomorrow." He gestured for her to enter.

The beautiful door opened to her sitting room. The décor was soft blue and white, full of overstuffed chairs, beautiful white wooden furniture with ornate scrollwork and wide doors that led to a balcony overlooking the gardens.

In the corner of the room stood a dress on a wire mannequin.

Alice had never been particularly interested in dresses until this moment. It was the most beautiful dress Alice had ever seen. The bodice was made of some sort of silk that reminded her of her travels to China, though she had never seen a shade of blue that dark and rich in all her travels. The skirt fell from an empire waste and the layers of fabric were that same deep midnight blue. The only pattern was some sort of silver thread woven into the skirt. The tiny specks of silver caught the light and sparkled. The entire effect gave off the impression that the dress was made from the night sky.

Alice couldn't stop staring at it. "Is that for me?" she asked.

Hatter nodded. "You needed something appropriate to wear tonight. So the Queen asked me-"

"You made this?" she interrupted him. "Hatter – Tarrant, this is…so beautiful…"

Hatter blushed with pride, "Well the Queen asked me to make something suiting a – er, a champion." He grinned. "We all played our parts. This was mine."

She touched the fabric. It felt more liquid than anything as it slipped through her fingers. She looked up at him. "Thank you," she said, earnestly.

They held each other's gaze for a moment, then longer. Hatter found himself wondering if time had stopped on him again.

"I'm glad you like it," he said finally, breaking the spell. "I should leave you to rest a bit." He turned and walked to the door, then back to Alice, "I'll see you tonight, Alice."

She nodded. "All right."

And with that, the door shut, and he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4 A Kingside Setup

Sometime later, when the light outside had begun to dim, a pair of knocks sounded on Alice's door. She opened it and found two familiar, rather round boys dressed in their customary stripes and suspenders, but with the addition of matching black tailcoats and bowties.

"Hello, Alice!" said Tweedledee.

"Hello, Alice!" said Tweedledum.

Alice smiled, "Hello, my friends! My you two look dashing!"

The twins puffed up a bit with obvious pride.

"I've come to escort you to the feast," proclaimed Tweedledum.

"No, _I've_ come to escort you to the feast!" cried Tweedledee, pushing his brother.

"It ain't so!" Tweedledum said indignantly. "The Queen _said _I was to."

"Contrariwise, the Queen said _I _was to."

Alice reached down and took a hand of each. "I think I should like it very much if you _both_ escorted me to the feast."

The Tweedles looked at Alice, then at each other for a moment, then shrugged, seemingly pacified. The three started off down the corridor.

"The feast should be grand, I'd imagine," said Alice to her twin companions.

"Oh yes," agreed Tweedledee. "The feasts in Marmoreal are always grand. And the meal is the grandest part!"

"The meal isn't halfways as grand as the dancing, no-how."

"Ain't so! Kitchen's been busy _all day_."

"Oh dear," said Alice, "I hope the March Hare has been kept from the kitchen?"

"Castle Cooks kicked him out this morning," said Tweedledee, grinning up at Alice.

"McTwisp had him helping to decorate," said Tweedledum.

"Apparently he had a hidden talent…" Alice breathed. They had reached the Western Courtyard. Like all the courtyards of the palace, the ever-blossoming cherry trees were the predominant feature, but these had been dressed for the occasion. Petals from the blossoms seemed to be falling continuously yet never touched the ground – swirling instead throughout the tree's limbs like oversized snowflakes caught in individual gusts of wind. Tiny lights flickered among the branches and leaves and flowers. The rest of the vast varieties of flowers that covered the ground were white; Alice recognized the roses and chrysanthemums and peonies, but many were strange. Some had spiny petals or petals that looked like vast hollow bubbles or vines that curled upward on their own, clinging to nothing but just swaying in the air. An immensely long table ran down the center of the courtyard, covered in shimmering white cloth and set with sparkling white china and glistening crystalware. The Queen's court, knights and ladies and gentlemen drifted about throughout the courtyard in their customary court white finery, laughing and talking and sampling the hors d'oerves and fizzy drinks in flute glasses. Alice saw familiar figures throughout the crowd: Uilleam the Dodo bird speaking with a knight in white armor, the March Hare holding a teacup out and pleading with a reluctant looking attendant, Mallymkun thrusting her hatpin sword at a twirling and disappearing Chessur.

Alice looked down at the soon-to-be feasters, a sense of contentment coming over her.

_It feels like home_, she realized.

"Ain't it beautiful?" Tweedledum asked.

"It glows!" agreed Tweedledee.

He was right. All of the white – the blossoms, the decorations, the people and the palace itself – reflected the tiny lights that hovered around the trees and flowers, creating a soft elegant luminosity to radiate from the courtyard.

"They are firelight flies," the Queen's soft voice explained. Alice turned to see Mirana, accompanied by the White Rabbit. "I feel they lend a certain…_home-like_ ambiance."

"I was thinking something similar. They are lovely," agreed Alice.

"Not as lovely as you, I think. Blue truly is your color, wouldn't you agree Tarrant?"

Alice turned to where the Queen directed the question. Hatter stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at Alice.

"I would, Your Majesty," he said, "I would absolutely agree, unequivocally agree, without doubt, undeniably, unmistakably, _indubitably_-"

"_Hatter!_" the White Rabbit coughed into his paw.

"Agree," Hatter managed to rasp out with the last bit of air. "Thank you." He took a deep breath and composed himself.

"I would _certainly_ agree with you, Your Majesty." He offered his hand to Alice.

She took it, and he led her into the merriment.

_

* * *

_

If everyone's head suddenly vanished

Hatter thought to himself,_ and there was no longer any need for hats, I think I should make quite a nice living as a dressmaker._

It was true. He had truly outdone himself.

In the light of the courtyard, the silver threads in Alice's dress twinkled like little stars lost in the night sky fabric. The dress moved and swirled like the nearly-liquid-silk it was made of and the dark color offset Alice's alabaster skin beautifully.

It was the thing to do, really, to separate her from all this _whiteness_. Not that white was bad – it was clean and light and peaceful. White was calm and tranquil, serene.

White was _not_ a color that made his heart beat like it was made of hummingbird wings.

White was _definitely not_ Alice.

* * *

Alice dropped into one of the dinner chairs, out of breath. Never in her life had she danced so, so _vigorously._

She'd had no idea that her head could spin completely around. She'd have to remember to ask Hatter if she could do that only during the Futterwacken or if she could fully rotate her head at her leisure.

Underland parties were decidedly _not_ like the parties in her world.

Alice gazed around at the remnants of the feast on the table. Plates of the remains of the roasted meats and vegetables and half-empty bowls of creamy soup and towering sliced up cakes still littered the table, the serving attendants having long ago left their posts to join in the festivities. The dinner conversation had been boisterous and full of laughter and jokes, so unlike the reserved and polite affected conversation of the dinner parties at home. And, seemingly to ensure the meal never grew boring, the guests were consistently dodging flying flatware from Thackery, who's aim accuracy seemed to grow in tandem with the amount of wine he drank.

"Best to ask from the other end of the table, m'lady," a knight had said to her after she had asked the March Hare to pass the gravy and she'd had to dive under the table to avoid both the gravy, gravy boat, saucer and ladle.

The dancing that followed the energetic meal was even more delightfully foreign to her. The dancers had looked like sparkling versions of the whirling dervishes she'd seen in her travels to Persia. She had been whisked off to the smooth stone dance floor beside an immense phonograph. She had been whirled and spun from one dance partner to the next, from the Tweedles to various knights and men of the court until she'd whirled and spun right into Hatter's arms. He'd led her in a rather quick sort of waltz that involved the occasional jump and twirl. At the end of it, she'd leaned in close to him and looked up into his bright green eyes, pursed her lips and asked sweetly if he'd teach her to Futterwacken.

He'd agreed, once he regained his composure.

Alice had no idea what caused her to flirt so brazenly with the Hatter. She looked at the almost-empty glass of wine in her hand.

Oh. Well, that could possibly be the cause. _That_, at the very least, hadn't helped.

The noise and wild movement and flickering lights when paired with the wine had certainly made her feel a bit lightheaded.

_Perhaps a moment or two alone, somewhere quiet_ she thought _for just a little while_.

Alice rose from her chair and slipped off through the trees and into the palace.

The castle halls were deserted. Immense candelabras hung from the ceilings, casting a soft, soothing glow over the stone corridors. It was cool and quiet. Her senses and her mind seemed to settle a bit.

She had missed the Underland more than she realized. She felt _herself_ here – that she could _be_ herself here. Not that anything had ever really stopped her from being herself before – her father's influence had seen to that. But here, in the Underland, no one thought she was strange or peculiar. Here, she was seen for who she was, what she had accomplished. She had infiltrated the Red Queen's palace, tamed the Bandersnatch and reclaimed the Vorpal Blade for Marmoreal, slain the Jabberwocky. Here, she was The Alice, a champion.

All of her friends were here: Bayard, Chessur, the Tweedles, Hatter…

Hatter was another matter entirely. The way he'd looked at her tonight, she thought she could get lost in those wide, green eyes that always seemed on the edge of madness.

She could get lost...

She _was_ lost.

Her wanderings through the desolated halls, mind distracted by her throughts and the haze of a little too much wine had left her disoriented. She vaguely remembered taking a few turns, but could not recall how far back or which way. Now, she stood at the end of a hall that branched off in three directions, all equally empty, and a door before her. She could turn around, but what then?

Well, perhaps if she stayed here someone would pass by and lead her back to the party.

Or maybe there was someone behind the doors in front of her.

She knocked on the door and pushed it open, peeking inside. It was a large, dimly lit gallery, and as vacant as the halls. Well, she'd have something to look at and explore while she waited for someone to come by. She propped the heavy door open with a nearby chair, and entered the room.

It was a display gallery of some kind and laid out like the rooms in museums she'd visited. Immense tapestries and paintings covered the walls. Beautiful swords and shields sat in cases on display and huge marble statues stood in the various corners of the room. Alice walked to the leftside wall, admiring a tapestry of a unicorn and a lion in what appeared to be a boxing match. The painting beside it showed a tall white knight astride a brave looking white horse. A portrait of two little girls, both pale, one with dark, serious eyes and white hair and one with an over-sized head and ruby red hair was beyond that.

Then Alice came to the far wall and a large painting – the largest in the room. She walked closer to it, not quite believing what she saw.

The man in the picture had brown hair, hazel eyes and a kind, regal expression. His clothes were dark and formal beneath a royalty-signifying robe of white fur and blue velvet. A bejeweled sword was at his waist and an impressive crown circled his brow.

Alice knew the man.

She'd seen him nearly every day of her childhood, and then every day in her memories.

She was looking at the portrait of Charles Kingsleigh, her father.


	5. Chapter 5 First Move Advantage

_The sound of waves gently lapping at the shore could be heard though the sandy dunes still hid the ocean from view. Rocks of all shapes and sizes and smoothness and little pools of salt water lined a wide path to the beach. A young girl bent down to examine a snail creeping across a smooth ivory-colored stone, it's eye stocks waving wildly like the sea grass in the breeze. She reached down to pick it up._

"_Alice!" her mother said, exasperated, "Do NOT pick that creature up! We are to have lunch when we reach the beach with the Ascots. _Please_ try to keep at least your hands clean." _

"_Helen, let the child play," Charles Kingsleigh admonished his wife gently. _

_Alice turned to look at the party travelling behind her. Her mother, immaculate as always, was making her way daintily down the path. Her sister Margaret drifted along beside her mother, a perfect miniature right down to the lacy parasol to keep the sun off her alabaster face._

_Alice was fairly certain she had left her own parasol in the carriage. She could already feel her nose starting to burn._

"_What are the Ascots going to think, Charles?"_

_Alice's father strode down the path a step or two in front of the overtly proper pair, excitement in his step and a gleam in his eye. Alice suspected he loved luncheons at the beach at least as much as she; he never complained about the sun and the salty, fishy smell as her sister and mother did._

"_They are going to think she is a child of six who has an eye…" Charles suddenly ran towards Alice and scooped her up, "…for ADVENTURE!" he cried, swinging her around. Alice giggled as he hoisted her up on his shoulders._

"_But Charles, you know that…" her mother's voice lowered to a whisper, "…there is talk of Alice marrying Hamish Ascot when they are of age. The Ascots are nobility – or near enough to it! What kind of impression will she make…she looks positively wild! And perched up there on your shoulders she's grinning like a maniac."_

_It was true. Her dress and stockings were already wrinkled and smudged with wet sand from a mishap on some slippery rocks earlier on the path. The sea breeze and her own frolicking had loosed Alice's hair and it was now trailing free down her back in curly tangles. Charles knew the grin that she would have on her face – though it was not the grin of a maniac._

"_Why, I'm sure her grin is suited for a cat!" Charles said._

"_Cats don't grin!" Alice said, laughing._

"_Are you sure? You've never seen a cat grin?"_

"_No!"_

"_Hmmm…" her father said. "Well have you ever seen a Cheshire cat?"_

"_What's a Chess…a Chesh…"_

"_Cheshire! And that's the problem," Charles said, conspiratorially. "A cat can only grin if it's a Cheshire cat!"_

"_How would I know the difference?" asked Alice._

"_Well if you stumble across a cat and you are unsure if it's a Cheshire, simply say something amusing and wait to see if it grins at you!"_

"_What shall I say?" _

"_How about a poem…" Charles suggested. "Cheshire cats do like poems…how about-_

"_The sun was shining on the sea, _

_Shining with all his might: _

_He did his very best to make_

_The billows smooth and bright – _

_And this was odd because it was_

_The middle of the night."_

_Alice giggled again. "That makes no sense! How could the sun be shining in the middle of the night?"_

"_Ah," said her father. "Perhaps the sun had come for a chat with the moon! Now, we must be getting close and Lord Ascot said that he and Hamish would wait for us at the end of the path. Just look down the road and tell me if you can see either of them." _

"_I see nobody on the road," said Alice._

"_I only wish _I_ had such eyes," Charles said. "To be able to see Nobody! And at such a distance too!"_

_Even Helen and Margaret couldn't help but smile at his nonsensical teasing._

"_Well, keep your eye out, my little princess of the perch," Charles said up to Alice._

_To his wife, he said quietly, "I think our Alice is destined for greater things than marriage to a Lord."_

* * *

Alice didn't remember sitting down. It was evident she had – there was a bench in front of the portrait of her father, and she was sitting on it.

Curious.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting there when a soothing, sympathetic voice sounded behind her.

"I see you've found the gallery room."

"So it would seem," Alice said to the White Queen, her eyes never leaving the portrait.

Mirana's hand touched lighty upon Alice's shoulder.

Alice flew out of her dazed thoughts and spun to face the Queen. "What is this?" she demanded. "Why is my father's portrait here? In a gallery? In your castle? In _Underland_? And why is he wearing _a crown_?" A tinge of hysteria touched her last words – none of this made any sense – the Underland was the Underland…her world was hers. Her father – his memory belonged above up _there_.

After a pause, the Queen simply said, "I think perhaps, a cup of tea is in order."

* * *

Alice sat in a small study with overstuffed chairs and a roaring fireplace. Mirana, sitting in the opposite chair, put down the spoon she had used to stir her tea, and looked to at Alice.

"The Underland," she began, "was once divided into many sovereignties; the ones familiar to you would be Mamoreal of which I was queen, and Crims, of which my sister Iracebeth was queen, but there are many, many more. Think of it as a wheel with many spokes – the end of each spoke was a kingdom. As a wheel, they were all joined at the center and united under a single ruler in the High Court of Underland. The ruler of the court, the High King or Queen, would oversee the entire Underland. For this story, it was a King that held the High Throne.

"The High King's primary role was to keep the rulers at peace: he settled disputes between the sovereignties, made sure that all was fair and just. This High King, though very young, was very wise and fair, and under his rule there came a time of peace in the Underland. Conflicts and wars ceased and trade and travel between the sovereignties flourished. We were all happy, except for one.

"The Underland was in such a state of peace and cooperation, the High King found he had nothing to do. His role was essentially to rule over the rulers, but the rulers seemed to no longer need ruling. The High King, to put it plainly, was bored and lonely, and so began looking for things to amuse himself. He began exploring his great castle, for it was so huge that there were rooms that no high kings or high queens had entered for quite some time as they had all been too occupied with their duties.

"He took room by room and one day he stumbled upon a room that was full of mirrors – mirrors on the walls, standing mirrors, full length mirrors, hand mirrors, they stood everywhere and covered every wall and table. As he walked through the rows and rows of mirrors, he noticed something: the reflections, his reflections, were never quite right. He examined more closely, he saw that if he gazed into them just so, his reflection would disappear completely and reveal a place entirely new as though he were gazing through a doorway.

"He ran from mirror to mirror, looking into these new strange places, until he found one that drew him more than any of the others. It was not a _where_ on the other side of the looking glass that drew him to this mirror though, it was a _who_. Through this mirror, the High King saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen – it is said she had hair the color of shimmering sunlight and skin the color of finest china. He discovered that the 'window' seemed to never move in this other world the girl inhabited, for the view into the Looking-Glass Room never changed, though people would wander in and out of the view. He would return to the room of looking glasses day after day until he finally had the mirror moved to his sitting rooms. It is said that some days he would wait and watch for hours to catch a mere glimpse of this girl.

"And, as these things go, he eventually fell in unrequited love.

"One day, the story goes, when the High King was looking at his love through the mirror, he touched the glass, as though to touch her face. His hand slipped through the looking glass and he tumbled right through the frame.

"Though no one truly knows, because he never spoke of it, I would imagine the girl was quite surprised. It seemed she got over her surprise though, and after a bit of time she feel in love with him and they married.

"He chose to stay in her world – after all, there was nothing he was needed for in the Underland. He kept the looking glass so that he could be contacted if ever he was needed again, and on occasion he returned to settle a land dispute or oversee a fair trade agreement. However, the High King was happy – he had a wife and two beautiful girls and an entirely new world to explore.

"Then Underland received horrible news – their High King had died, unexpectedly, and had left no heirs in Underland to take his throne. In the shadow of his death, and one to take the High Crown, certain power-hungry rulers began to see…_opportunities…_and the sovereignties began to fight among themselves again. There were those of us that tried to divide the responsibilities." The Queen gestured to her crown, "The symbols of his rule were divided among us deemed most deserving, but hurt feelings of being passed over and the lure of power was too great, you see, and that is when the story of my sister's takeover begins."

Alice had sat in silence through the White Queen's tale. She knew what the queen would say next, but how in spite of her visits to the Underland, the looking glass in her home above the fireplace that she herself had used to travel to the Underland, her _father_ and how much _sense_ it all actually made…how was she to believe it?

Mirana's tone was grave as she reached to take Alice's hand. "As I'm sure you have realized by now, the High King was your father. The woman he saw and fell love with through the looking glass was your mother - and you, Alice, are the rightful heir to the High Throne of Underland."

* * *

A/N: Ok, credit where credit is due – everything I borrowed is from Lewis Carroll.

The poem that Charles "makes up" is from the "The Walrus and the Carpenter" from _Through the Looking Glass._

_"Just look down the road and tell me if you can see either of them."_

_"I see nobody on the road," said Alice._

_"I only wish I had such eyes," …"To be able to see Nobody! And at such a distance too!"_

is an exchange between Alice and the White King in _Through the Looking Glass_.

Finally, in _Through the Looking Glass_, Alice refers to the room beyond the looking glass as "The Looking-Glass House", which I used for "Looking-Glass Room".


	6. Chapter 6 Flight Square Comfort

_Father…High King, heir to the throne…Queen…_

Honestly, what was one to _say_ to this?

Denial seemed safe.

"I…I can't be…" Alice began, the words failing her. Her head was spinning again, though wine could hardly be blamed this time.

The Queen had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. "I hadn't planned to tell you in such an abrupt way…I'd thought tomorrow…well, this was hardly suitable…"

A near hysterical bark of laughter escaped Alice. She composed herself, "Your Majesty, I'm not sure there is a _suitable_ way of bestowing this information…I…I think I should like to go to my rooms."

The Queen nodded in sympathy. "Of course, Alice. We shall talk more tomorrow, shall I take you?"

Alice shook her head. "I can find my way, I think I'd like some time to myself."

"Of course," Mirana rose, "Sleep well, Alice. We shall speak more on this tomorrow. I will answer any questions you may have, of course."

"Thank you," Alice said, already headed for the door. She let it close softly behind her. It was doubtful she'd sleep well - or at all, really.

She wandered the palace halls, not really thinking - it was too much. She barely paid attention to where she was going. To her surprise, she found herself at the balcony that had haunted her dreams for the past three years. The picture completed itself as she saw the tall figure in his tophat leaning against the rail. He turned at the sound of her approach.

"Alice!" he said quietly, through grinning ear-to-ear. "I had _hoped_ you would come here! And here you came! Lovely party – we all wondered where you'd gotten to! Mally got herself stuck in a wine bottle and McTwisp had a horrid time of getting her out and the whole time that blasted vanishing cat – why, what is the matter?"

The deep concern that radiated from his expressive eyes broke shattered any thoughts of giving an evasive answer. "I…I went to get some quiet to clear my head…I found the gallery and, and there was a portrait and…I've been with the Queen."

"Oh, er…well…" Hatter looked away from her eyes. "Yes, I suppose that was rather a surprise…"

Alice laughed dryly. "And I'd say that is rather an understatement. And I suppose everyone knows?"

"I don't know if I should…"

"Tarrant!" Alice said, reaching for his hand, "Please! I was just told my father was not only from the Underland, but the High _King_ of Underland and that I am the heir to the High Throne! Of all _this!_" she gestured out into the gardens the balcony overlooked, "And beyond! This is nonsense! It's impossible!"

Her hand was cold in his, delicate and trembling. He looked to her beautiful and confused face, made paler by the moonlight and her distress.

Oh this would not do.

He held the frozen shivering hand in both of his, rubbing gently as though to rub all the warmth and comfort he had back into it and so into her.

"There was a girl once, a champion of the greatest kingdom in the Underland." His wide green eyes serious and mesmerizing as they gazed into hers. "She told me that she regularly believed in six impossible things before breakfast." He took a step closer, holding the gaze of her troubled eyes. "Is this so much more impossible?"

"Oh," Alice sighed, suddenly exhausted. "I don't know. I don't know what to think. I have so many questions, and my mind refuses to settle on just one."

"Minds can be funny that way. You still have yours! That is something…"

Alice chuckled tiredly, and wrapped her arms around him. "Yes," she said, muffled against his shoulder. "I suppose it is."

His own arms rose to cradle her to him. She had stopped trembling. The softness of her hair against his cheek bested the finest silk he'd ever worked with. He let his fingers weave into her long curls. The desire to never let her go filled him, to keep her here, like this, arms wrapped around each other and that silken hair pressed against his cheek and her head pressed against his shoulder.

_The only head_ he thought absently _that I could never improve with a hat._

* * *

He'd led her back to her rooms, and she'd thanked him wearily, giving his hand a squeeze before letting the door divide the space between them.

Tarrant sighed, suddenly weary himself. It was all set in motion now – Alice would complete the tasks before her – he knew she would. If anyone in the whole Underland could, she would. She had every ounce of his faith – in fact she was beyond his faith; that she could do it all was simple truth. Look who she had become.

And beyond that, it was, after all, in her blood. In her _royal_ blood.

And he? He was a hatter. Possibly the most magnificent hatter in all of Underland, but still, a hatter.

He would pledge himself to her, of course. He would stand by her side, as a hatter, as a warrior, as whatever she bid him to be. But as a man?

He stood, staring at her closed door. He rested his palm on the white polished wood. "I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me," he murmured, then turned and began a slow, dragging walk back to his own rooms.

What in all Underland did he have, as a man, to offer a _Queen_?


	7. Chapter 7 Absolem's Innovation

Alice looked at her face in the vanity mirror as she brushed out her hair. She didn't _look _particularly queenly. Not like Mirana. Not even like the red queen. Her chin did not have enough poise to it. Perhaps she didn't hold herself regally.

Putting down the brush, she looked at her reflection. Lifting her chin slightly, and let a benevolent smile touch her lips.

Well, she tried for benevolent. Really she just looked a little like something she'd had for dinner did not agree with her. It really wasn't very queenly at all. _She _wasn't really very queenly at all.

Of course she wasn't. This entire thing was ridiculous.

Impossible.

_I often think of six impossible things! Before breakfast!_

But cats grinned. Flowers sang. Edibles and imbibeables could make you big or make you small. She fell down a rabbit hole and landed in another world. She was a champion in that world, slain an evil dragon-like creature and saved the land from an evil rule. In her own world where most women of her class occupied themselves with latest fashions and their rank in society, where she'd been expected to do the same, through her own drive she'd become shrewd businesswoman who had traveled to the ends of the earth.

Alice squared her shoulders and looked her mirror-self in the eye.

Maybe this queen business wasn't entirely impossible. After all, it was in her blood...apparently.

And that..._that _was a whole different kettle of fish, wasn't it?

"If the gears in that mind of yours were turning any louder, you'd wake the entire palace."

Alice started at the dry voice behind her. She grinned as a moment later a flutter of blue landed near the candle on the vanity.

"Like a moth to the flame," she said to the sour faced butterfly.

Absolem snorted. "Moth? Hardly."

"Your wings are quite beautiful. Do you like being able to fly?"

Absolem, to her surprise, did his best to hide a bit of preening. "We all must transform," he said in the same brusque tone.

Alice sighed. "You gave me that advice years ago, you know."

"Then perhaps you should have remembered it."

"Absolem..."

"Hmm?"

"Did you...know my father?"

Absolem's left antennae tilted off to one side and the corresponding eye sort of..bulged. Alice supposed it to be the butterfly-version of a raised eyebrow. He said nothing.

"My father, the High King..."

"Charles Kingsleigh. Nay, King Charles, High Ruler of All Underland."

"That would be the one, yes."

"I knew him. All in Underland did."

"What was he like?"

"You knew him."

Honestly. Getting a straight answer out of him was harder than Jabberwocky slaying at times.

"I knew him as my father. As a businessman, of wondrous vision and determination. Of great strength of character and so very much love for his family. But he was the man who read me bedtime stories, who would play silly make-believe games with me and make funny faces at me during formal dinners when I was the only one watching. I knew him as my father, not as a king."

"And is not every father a king to their child?"

"That's not quite..."

"You are your father's daughter, Alice, have you not been told that countless times?"

"I suppose, but..."

"But nothing. What has changed but that you now know more of yourself than you did before."

Alice stared at her reflection.

Was that really it? Was it all so simple? Maybe. It was true that she'd always felt so much more of a kinship with her father than with her mother - than most everyone else in her world if she were honest with herself. He never stifled her, never told her to "behave" or "act like a young lady". He encouraged her imagination, her invented games and fanciful stories. When the rest of the world told her she was "wrong", wasn't it the memory of his encouragement, his own convictions in his visions and imaginings that gave her that extra strength to stay true to herself? Wasn't his influence the reason she had neglected the "proper" way of life that was expected of her in favor of a world of dreams and impossible ideas, and eventual innovation and adventure?

Maybe this was just another adventure. Maybe this adventure would be the greatest of all.

And considering her life thus far, that really was saying something.

She took a short breath and blew out the candle. If nothing else, she would surely learn more about this man she called, "Father" and this entire world called, "High King".

* * *

**A/N:** WOW it's been a long time since I've written, and I'm so, so sorry. In time between the last post and this, I've gotten engaged, gotten married, and now we are buying a house, so my mind was admittedly otherwise occupied (not that any of this silly real life stuff is an excuse :P). Thanks to any of you who have stuck around - I'm ready for the escape that is this story again! I know this is a little short, but the future chapters should be longer. Let's see what happens...


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